


Palm to Palm

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, F/M, Fitz is awkward, Fitz's POV, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Jemma is a Vulcan, Kissing, Tumblr Prompt, Vulcan Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the handholding scene from 2x15 in an AU where Jemma is a Vulcan and holding hands is... well, quite a bit more intimate in their culture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Palm to Palm

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much all you need to know is that Jemma's a Vulcan, Fitz is a human, and I am _far_ from an expert on Vulcan biology. The idea for this fic is extrapolated from [this post](http://agentverbivore.tumblr.com/post/118814425728/we-interrupt-our-regular-broadcast-to-bring-you) and [this one](http://agentverbivore.tumblr.com/post/115315886248/agentverbivore-im-laughing-at-myself-because). Forgive me any Star Trek errors. 
> 
> Dedicated to tumblr user fitzyandsimms, who gave me the opportunity to finally write this by requesting an "AoS/FitzSimmons Star Trek AU" as part of my giveaway!

\------

People who had once purported to be their colleagues and friends traipsed past where they sat on the floor of the new lab, the lab that had never felt like home to Fitz and now stank of betrayal. He and Jemma had been separated from the other scientists on the USS SHIELD, their loyalties too firmly set alongside Coulson to allow them to wander freely, and they now sat together in silence. The lack of words would have barely registered with Fitz once, their ability to communicate without speaking having been an integral part of their everyday lives. But it had been months since anything had felt normal between them, and so this quietness felt somehow both strained and yet familiar. At least they were here together, Fitz thought, glancing over at her as another colleague ( _another traitor_ , his mind whispered) strode stonily past. At least Jemma was here beside him and not working with them. 

The tip of one pointed ear peeked out of the curled strands of her shorter hair as she turned her head, catching his gaze briefly before he could look away. She’d made it very clear to Fitz that she wasn’t interested in him the way he once had been in her (still was, if he was being honest with himself, but his latent anger helped nudge the truth aside often enough), and so a light flush colored his ears at the idea that she might think he’d been staring at her. Her eyes still lingered on him, though, and without warning she reached over and grabbed his hand, causing him to freeze and stare down at where her palm pressed lightly against his skin.  

Memories of all that they’d been through this year passed through Fitz’s mind; of the weeks not long after Jemma left for Hydra’s armada, when he'd first realized that she might never be coming back and his brain had refused to let her go. Of the tension between them when she’d returned and it had felt like he was drowning all over again, words he’d begun to remember dying in his throat, the pain of her absence still potent and unassailable. Of her behavior after Trip’s death and Skye’s transformation, when her loyalty to logic had edged her along a path that Fitz found deeply worrisome. But right now her hand was in his, one thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles, and for the first time in months he didn’t miss her. Not because she was literally beside him, but because she _felt_  like she was there, as if maybe they were in sync for the first time since before the pod. So Fitz reached out and covered her hand with his, trying to tell her that he was still here for her, too – through whatever this newest threat would bring.

A strangled “oh” escaped Jemma’s throat, and he turned to her, taking in the way a flush bloomed in her cheeks, her pupils dilated, and her breath quickened, all within a very short space of time. Since her emotions had always seemed to be firmly in her control, like those of all Vulcans, this surprise pinged a warning signal in Fitz’s head, and he frowned, trying to parse through what had just happened. Just then Commander Weaver strode over and Jemma whipped her hand away from his, tangling her fingers tightly in her own lap. His attention was abruptly drawn away from Jemma’s strange reaction by the reminder of the takeover, however, and he didn’t think about it again until quite late that evening. 

Having just unlocked his Playground room, Fitz turned at the sound of Jemma’s voice. “Fitz!” Her body posture was even stiffer than usual, having almost none of her normal restrained Vulcan grace, and he felt suddenly rather nervous. Since her return and their initial fights, it had been extremely rare for her to initiate conversations, and he tried not to spin out worst-case scenarios in his head. “I’m glad I caught you – I, um, may we speak...?” She gestured through his open door, but he kept his gaze on her, again confused by the distinctive blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah, sure,” he answered at last, stepping back to let her through. Once he’d closed the door behind him, Fitz stood awkwardly in the center of the room, watching as her eyes landed on the pictures of them together that still littered his space, some turned over and others tacked up on the wall. Rubbing the back of his neck, he shuffled forward when she didn’t say anything. “So –” Jemma jumped at the sound of his voice and then inhaled sharply at his proximity, as if she’d forgotten that he was there, and Fitz frowned, now thoroughly nonplussed by her un-Vulcan behavior. “What’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath and tucking a strand of hair back behind one distinctive, tapered ear, she forced herself to make eye contact. Fitz couldn’t ever remember his best friend (a small part of him did a double-take at that phrase; were they still best friends?) looking so plainly nervous before, her facial features always carefully schooled. Knowing her as well as he had (or had thought he had) meant that he’d been able to read her better than most humans could read Vulcans, but her nerves now were plain enough that anyone would have seen them.  

“Fitz, I – I thought it best that we talk about... I don’t want you to feel like you’ve been... I realized that there was....” Jemma sighed, studying his face as she raised her hands to her neck. “How much do you know about Vulcan romantic traditions?”

He blinked at her, replaying the question in his head to make sure he’d understood it properly. “Uh, not much. You’re the only Vulcan I’ve ever really spent any time with, and we... uh... that wasn’t... we didn’t talk about that stuff.” Cringing, Fitz scratched the edge of one eyebrow, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. This wasn’t to say that he hadn’t wondered about “that stuff” in regards to Jemma before (in dreams, both the day and night variety), but considering her lack of reciprocation it made him feel rather guilty doing so.

Jemma’s face fell, and he couldn’t help but think that she looked distinctly disappointed. “Oh. Right,” she murmured, sitting slowly on the edge of his bed. “Well, as I think you know, Vulcans are not absent of feeling but –”

“Channel it differently than humans,” he interrupted, putting his hands on his hips. “Yeah.” 

“Right,” she said. “So, our version of courting is rather less demonstrative than that of humans. Touch, for example, is far more....” Jemma cleared her throat, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. “Significant.” 

Fitz stared down at her, not having a clue where she was going with this. “Alright...." 

For a few moments, she just watched him, and then exhaled. “Things like hugs used to be considered more intimate, but the more we interact with humans, the less emotional value larger gestures have. So hugging is no longer as fraught, but skin-to-skin contact is still heightened. For example, Vulcans in committed relationships kiss like this.” Then she raised the two forefingers of both hands and pressed the tips together.

Brows furrowing, Fitz opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she was talking about – and then the image of her face, pink-cheeked and lips bowed in a shocked _oh_ after he placed his hand over hers in the lab, popped into his head. “Oh, God,” he muttered, swallowing thickly. “Jemma, in the lab, earlier –” 

“Right,” she said, voice achingly quiet.

“What did that....” Feeling thoroughly unqualified for this discussion, he waved one hand lamely in the empty space between them.

“I think,” she whispered, “it would be equivalent to human sexual intercourse. Or, at the very least, rather intense frotting.”

Fitz’s jaw worked silently, his face bright red, as his mind raced at the idea that he had somehow accidentally... done something very sexual with Jemma. (And hadn’t even been aware of it – just his luck.) Then he blinked. “Wait. You – you put your hand over _mine_. You started it.”

If it was at all possible, which he wasn’t sure it was, Jemma’s voice got even quieter. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he said putting one hand over his eyes and trying desperately not to turn on his heel and walk out the door in extreme panic. “What did that mean to you? You know, in human terms?”

“I...” she said, and although he couldn’t see her he was fairly sure he heard her swallow. “For me, it was a kiss.” Fitz’s brain stuttered to a stop at the idea that she’d intentionally _kissed_ him – not that he’d known it at the time – but then she continued. “It was a passionate kiss.” 

His eyes flew open at that. Jemma was still sitting at the edge of the bed, hands tangled together in her lap, but her gaze was clear.

“What?” It was an unclear and probably unnecessary question, but Fitz honestly didn’t know how else to respond to that. They’d barely spoken for weeks, and now she was telling him _this_. That she’d made the conscious decision to kiss him in an intimate, Vulcan way. In the midst of dozens of other Starfleet scientists, at that.

“You were... after everything, with ‘real’ Starfleet, you are just the same as ever, Fitz. I – I... I don’t know how to say it –”

“Try.”

His voice was probably harsher than it should have been, but he was quickly realizing that there was something severely lacking in their communication skills – particularly if he’d never known that his best friend considered handholding to be something so intimate. Dozens of other seemingly innocent touches throughout the length of their friendship flashed through his head – Jemma catching his hand before he went to Ossetia, grabbing his shoulders or swatting his knee in too many brief moments to count, pressing kisses all over his face at the bottom of the ocean – and suddenly seemed so much more weighted than he’d ever considered. 

Jemma cleared her throat, and got unsteadily to her feet. “I am – I was so tired of not showing you how I feel. You are and always shall be my friend, Fitz – at least in my eyes – but I didn’t know until you told me... that I could... want more. I don’t understand most humans – the nuances of their interactions escape me. But not you. I’ve always found you so much more interesting than anyone else, and you are... very precious to me. And today I suppose I acted impulsively. Which I’m not sure I’ve ever done before.” Stepping forward, she gave him a hesitant smile before cringing. “I thought that maybe you knew what it would mean. To me. It wasn’t until later, when I was examining Lieutenant Mackenzie, that I realized... I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, or – anything like that. And I understand if you didn’t mean to reciprocate in that way. If you don’t want to.” Her face didn’t appear any different, but her whole body was held tightly in control again, as if moving more than was necessary would make her more vulnerable. “I understand. I have not been the friend that you needed this year, and for that I apologize.” 

A large part of him wanted to throw the last comment back at her, to remind her of all the times that he’d _needed_ her after the pod, that she couldn’t handle his recovery, and that she’d left him painfully alone. But most of him... most of him wanted to take those three steps forward and kiss her the way he’d wanted to for the better part of a year. Wanted to forget everything that had made him so angry about her in recent weeks, wanted to just let things happen the way that they both finally, _finally_ , seemed to want.

Fitz inhaled and raised his eyes to hers. “Yeah, alright, I didn’t know that what I did... what that would mean to you. I wouldn’t’ve done it if I’d known.” Something behind her expression closed off at that and her lips thinned, but before Jemma could back away from him again Fitz reached out and grabbed her hand. Keeping his eyes trained on hers, he slid two fingers down the inside of her wrist and then pressed their palms together, not totally sure what he was doing but hopeful that she’d understand. The small gasp that she released made it clear that she knew exactly what he’d meant, and her honey-brown eyes widened as she watched him. 

After a few seconds, Jemma twisted her wrist slightly to bring their hands up beside her shoulder and then slid her fingers in between his. He wasn’t entirely sure what this would translate to in human physicality, but the soft heat behind Jemma’s gaze made his stomach swoop. Without thinking, he took a step towards her and then halted himself – he wanted to kiss her so fervently at this point that it was almost painful for him to stop himself, but considering the likeliness that what they were doing right now was probably some form of advanced foreplay, kissing seemed rather beyond possible at this point.

Jemma watched Fitz hold himself back, and then took a small breath. “You can, you know. If you want to. Kiss me.”

Fitz frowned and shook his head, letting their hands drop. “That’s not – you don’t have to say that, Jemma. I know it’s not the same for you –”

“I want to. With you.” Searching his eyes, she inched ever-so-slightly forward. “I’m curious about everything with you.”

His brain fuzzed out for a second, but when he came back into focus she was still staring up at him, the heat behind her eyes tempered by a kind of affection that he’d never noticed before. Taking a slow breath, he stepped forward and slid his hands just underneath her jaw. “Tell me if you don’t... if you want to stop. Okay?” Jemma nodded, pupils dilating as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Her body tensed underneath him at first and Fitz almost pulled back, already feeling guilty for letting her talk him into forcing his human customs onto her. But then one of Jemma’s hands came up to wrap around his wrist, holding him in place, and her muscles relaxed as she slid her lips gently against his. A shuddering breath escaped his throat, and then he couldn’t stop himself, tilting her head back to improve the angle and matching the slight movements of her mouth, already convinced that he was completely addicted to kissing her. She pressed in closer, surprising him by her willingness to break the touch barriers apparently so entrenched in Vulcan culture, and he felt the hesitant touch of her tongue to the seam of his mouth. He released a low noise and parted his lips, waiting for her tongue to dart in before truly reacting.

His tongue made a few careful sweeps over hers, and Jemma moaned into his mouth, her whole body practically melting against him while her hands clutched at his shirt. She didn’t seem to have any desire to pull away but her extreme reaction made him nervous, so Fitz withdrew, sliding his hands down to wrap around her biceps and leaning his forehead against hers. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, Fitz,” she murmured, eyes still closed and more than a touch of a moan coloring her tone of voice. “Yes. I am very much alright.” After another few moments, her eyes blinked open to meet his gaze. “But I think you’re probably right that this is far enough for tonight.” 

“I didn’t actually say that,” he countered automatically, eyes drifting to where her tongue darting out had left her lips pink and moist.

Jemma chuckled, and stretched up to nuzzle against his nose, and again he wondered briefly what that gesture would mean to her in Vulcan terms. “I read between the lines.” Staring down, Fitz couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth, happiness blooming in his chest in a way he hadn’t felt in months. “And don’t worry, we will do this again.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we _will_ , hm?”

Reaching up to straighten the open collar of his shirt, she nodded and slid her other hand into his. “Yes. Pretending that you don’t want to would be ludicrous, Fitz.” 

On the verge of arguing with her again, his voice caught as she started sliding her thumb along the side of his hand and successfully completely distracted him. Considering how chaste such an action was viewed by humans, that shouldn’t be something that stopped him in his tracks. But her eyes were so close to his, intense and unwavering, showing him that she knew exactly what she was doing, and with every pass of the pad of her thumb his breath quickened. 

“Right,” he whispered, blinking at her for a few seconds before leaning down and pressing warm, gentle kisses along her jaw and neck. A whimper slid out of her throat and she tilted her head to give him better access, her hand tightening around his. It occurred to him that they were sort of doing a version of both human and Vulcan traditions, with her fingers tensing and releasing within his while he teased at her pulse point with his tongue. Something about this give-and-take was so very like them that Fitz felt dizzy, ecstatic, and more than a little shocked that it was happening at all.

Yet again, Jemma was the first one to pull back, withdrawing her hand to curl both around her neck again. “Oh my,” she breathed, skin flushed and eyes heavy-lidded as she stared up at him. “That was – yes, I think that was enough for the night.” Exhaling, she stepped quickly around him and paused at the door, curling her fingers around the handle, and Fitz had the brief thought that he was never going to be able to look at her hands the same way again. When Jemma met his gaze, she gave him a small smile, her eyes shining in the bedroom’s dim light. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” he answered, smiling bashfully back as she ducked out the door and closed it behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, Fitz sped over to his laptop, determined that he wouldn’t sleep a wink until he was thoroughly versed in Vulcan anatomy and romantic traditions. He had a lot of catching up to do before tomorrow, and the memory of Jemma’s hand in his was the perfect incentive.


End file.
